


You're One of Us (You're Here to Stay)

by BeautyGraceOuterSpace



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Bones is a Good Friend, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jim needs a hug, Past Child Abuse, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11984634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyGraceOuterSpace/pseuds/BeautyGraceOuterSpace
Summary: “I know that what happened here… you’re not quite sure how to deal with it. And that’s ok, but I want you to understand something, alright?”Here he paused and looked at Jim, ducking his head as he tried to make eye contact. “Jim, look at me.” Jim did. “I want you to know that I would never hurt Joanna. Not ever.”“I know, Bones."“And I would never hurt you, either, kid.”





	You're One of Us (You're Here to Stay)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to darkwarps (on tumblr) for reading this a million and two times and helping me edit and work through this fic. I couldn't have done it without you!

It was no secret that Leonard H. McCoy saw Jim Kirk as little more than a child at the best of times. Therefore, he really shouldn’t have been surprised that the moment Jim met his 7 year old daughter, Joanna, the two of them clicked instantly and Jim reverted, more or less, to a 7 year old himself, chasing the little girl around the lower level of his mama’s house as she shrieked with laughter and Jim made strange growling noises.

He had brought Jim along with him on their Thanksgiving break from the Academy when he had learned that, yet again, the younger man had nowhere else to go. They had been sitting in the mess with the rest of the noon-on-the-nosers--Jim had a strange, rigid schedule when it came to meals-- and Len had looked down at the bland replicator food on his tray with a sneer of disgust, poking at it aimlessly with his fork and bemoaning to his friend, “I cannot _wait_ until next week… this junk can’t hold a candle to my mama’s home cooking.”

Jim was tucking into his own meal without hesitation; the kid would eat anything that was put in front of him, cleaning his plate whenever possible. He nodded as he chewed, his lips turning up at the corners to let Bones know he was listening.

_Hook._

“I’m telling you, Jim, holidays in Georgia? Nothin’ like it. Turkey, ham, stuffing, pie, all homemade. Cool, crisp air, and my mama has an honest to God fireplace. An antique, wood-burning one, can you believe it? _And_ I get Jo this year!” He set his fork down on the edge of his tray, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. “Four more days, and then I am out of here. I don’t know about you, but I could use a break and a good home cooked meal.” Jim nodded agreeably, taking a sip of his water. “So what about you?”

_Line._

Jim set his glass down. “What about me what?”

“What about your plans, genius? For Thanksgiving.”

Jim shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but his smile was tight. “Nah, I figured I’d just hang around here, get ahead on my course work, same as usual.”

_And… Sinker._

Of course, he did the only logical thing and responded, “Don’t be stupid, Jim. You'll come home with me.”

Jim’s only response was a laugh; a light, mocking sound, not cruel but genuinely amused. Len raised an eyebrow. Jim caught his shocked expression and added,“Thanks, but don’t worry about it, Bones. I’m good. You go enjoy your family, and I’ll see you when you get back.”

Len wasn’t deterred.

“Sorry, kid, no can do. I’m not leaving you here to sit all alone in a dark, cold, room when you could just as easily be in a big warm house enjoying yourself. Besides, if my mama heard that you declined her hospitality to spend a holiday alone again, she’d never let me hear the end of it. I’m pretty sure she’d come out here and drag you back herself. She’ll force feed you, mark my words. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With another laugh, Jim caved. “Alright, alright. I’ll go with you. God forbid I risk the wrath of Mama Bones.”

As Len picked up his fork, nodding in satisfaction, Jim spoke again. “Really, Bones? ‘Sitting all alone in a dark, cold room?’ Could you be more dramatic?"

Len shrugged. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Jim rolled his eyes, and returned to his meal.

Which brought them to today: Thanksgiving day, mid afternoon. Jim and Joanna roaming through the house playing a game Len couldn’t possibly hope to understand, but that seemed to involve Jim pretending to be some sort of alien creature and Joanna running away dramatically. He watched them in amusement from an armchair in the corner, the smiles on their faces spreading from ear to ear, Jim carefully maneuvering their game around furniture and out of the way of Eleanor’s cooking spree in the kitchen.

Jim fit in here. He had been hesitant at first, and even now, a few days into their little vacation, he kept his distance with overly polite responses and his usual frequent offers of help. They were working on that, still. Luckily, Len’s mama was having it about as much as Len himself did, and had just shooed Jim away each time with a smile or a fond pat on the cheek, her lilting drawl overly pronounced as she proclaimed, “James, you are our guest and I won’t have you picking up after anyone but yourself in this house, you hear?”

A few dozen occurrences later and Jim finally seemed to be getting through his head that nothing was expected of him here, though he still looked distinctly uncomfortable watching anyone else do the dishes or take out the trash. His mama had taken pity on the poor kid on day three of their stay and had finally relented with a soft, “James? Be a dear and help me put away these glasses? The shelf is a bit high for me.” Jim had looked so relieved, it took all of Len’s self control not to smirk at the way he jumped up to help.

Jim had confided in him on the shuttle over that he hadn’t had a holiday with family since he was about 7 years old, last time his mom was planetside and his brother was still around, before Frank... before his childhood went to pot. It made Len’s heart ache to know how badly his friend craved people, friendship, family. Even watching him with Jo was bittersweet, knowing that he’d never had much of a chance to be a child himself. Well, if anyone could make up for any of that, it was Len’s girls. His mama and daughter were just about the sweetest people on the planet, and they welcomed Jim with open arms, just like he had known they would.

Not that it was hard. Once you got past the cocky, overbearing front the kid threw up for the rest of the world, he was easy to like: kind, considerate, loyal to a fault and wildly intelligent. Still, he couldn’t blame the kid for his facade. Jim had his secrets, just like everybody else, and even the few that Len knew about were more than enough to make a weaker man crumble. Jim had his coping mechanisms, and being what he thought other people wanted to see was a big one… that and forcing people to see what he _wanted_ them to see.

All of that went away here, quirks aside. He chuckled as Jim finally caught Joanna, still kneeling on the floor and scooping her into his arms where he threw her over his shoulder and proceeded to poke her sides as she giggled. Joanna reached down and poked him back, and Jim released her, dramatically falling to the floor, lying down holding his side and crying out, “She got me! She got me! Arghhhh! Bones, help me!”

“Ah, would that I could, Jim, but I think my mama needs me,” he said, doing his best to keep a straight face as he rose and went to get himself a glass of iced tea from the kitchen.

He cracked a smile though, as Jim whispered, “Traitor!”

Joining his mother in the kitchen, where she had been obsessively preparing dinner for the past several hours, humming merrily to herself as she bustled around in her old fashioned apron. She tutted, gently shooing his hand away as he tore off a small flake of the crust of the pie sitting cooling on the counter and popped it into his mouth. “They seem to be getting along well,” she said as a shrill peal of laughter rang out from the adjacent room.

“Never doubted for a moment that they would,” he replied, helping himself to the iced tea in the fridge. He took the glass, already pooling with condensation, to the barstools lined up against the island and took a seat.

“She’s good for him,” his mama continued. “I don’t know what that boy’s been through, but Lord knows that a child is the best medicine for most any hurt.” “He’s…” Len sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s been through a lot. I suspect I don’t know the half of it, and what I _do_ know is bad enough.”

“He does seem a bit---”

Whatever his mama thought Jim was a bit of, he never found out, because at that moment there was the sharp sound of glass shattering in the next room.

On his feet in an instant, he called out, “Jo?” even as he made his way back to where he had left Jim and his daughter to their game, his mama hot on his heels. As he rounded the doorframe he was greeted by the sight of Joanna in Jim’s arms, her bare feet dangling, but unharmed, shards of the vase that had stood on the end table next to the sofa littering the floor underneath them. Jim had scooped Joanna up when the vase fell, it seemed.

“Sorry, daddy, I br--”

“I’m so sorry, Bones, Mrs. McCoy,” Jim cut in, setting Joanna down safely away from the glass, but keeping her within arm's reach. “I bumped the table, and I wasn’t able to catch it in time.”

“Nuh-uh!” Joanna butt in, stepping forward even as Jim put a hand out to remind her to keep her distance from the broken glass. “That’s not--”

“I’ll replace it, I promise,” Jim continued, “or-or pay you back, either way. Let me clean it up,” he took a step forward, seemingly to search for a broom, and it was then that Len noticed the blood.

“Jim,” he said sharply, taking a few quick steps forward, his shoes crunching on the glass as he walked over it, “you’re bleeding. Did you---”

He was stunned to silence as Jim scuttled backwards, gently guiding Joanna behind him as he went, a thin trail of blood in his wake. Jim’s posture screamed “cornered”. His shoulders had hitched up beside his ears, and his back had hunched slightly, his feet bracing and his hands out to his sides as he kept Joanna covered from view; as he protected her.

“Jim, what…?”

“I broke the vase,” Jim insisted, eyes darting wildly as he met Len’s gaze. “I did it. It was my fault.”

Len moved towards them again, wanting to check on Joanna, who was growing increasingly upset behind Jim, and on Jim’s wounds; again Jim countered, moving them both away.

“Jim,” Len huffed, patience for his friend’s strange behavior wearing thin.

“I broke the vase, Bones, don’t punish Jo,” Jim said, much quieter than his previous declarations of guilt.

 _Oh_.

A memory suddenly came rushing back to Len.

A few months back, right after Jim had started opening up about the abuse he had experienced as a child-- though he had yet to get Jim to use that word for it. They had been sharing a few drinks and Len had laughed himself to tears remembering the time his mama had caught him and his friend trying to bust into the liquor cabinet at the ripe old age of 12, hoping to sneak a taste of whiskey or bourbon or whatever else they could get their hands on. As he had wiped the wetness from his eyes, trying to catch his breath through the lingering chortles, he realized Jim wasn’t laughing; he had his eyes downcast and a small, sad smile on his face as he took another sip of his drink.

“Hey,” he had said, nudging his friend with his shoulder. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Nothin’,” Jim had replied, not meeting his eyes. “Just… it amazes me, the stuff people get away with. If I had tried that as a kid there would have been hell to pay.”

Drawing himself back to the present, everything suddenly fell into place with sickening clarity.

“Mama,” he said, never breaking eye contact with Jim, “can you take Jo upstairs for a bit?”

His mother, bless her heart, was quick on the uptake and cheerfully said, “Of course, Len. Come on, Joanna, how about you and I go work a bit more on that model your daddy gave you a few days ago?”

With a sideways glance between the two of them, clearly understanding that they wanted her out of the way but not understanding _why_ , Joanna stepped around Jim, taking the long way around the room to avoid the glass and taking her grandmother’s hand. Their footsteps on the stairs were light and quick, but Len waited until the sound of Joanna’s bedroom door closing could be heard before he began.

“You’re bleedin’, kid.”

“That’s ok,” Jim said quickly, not having moved an inch from where he had placed himself. “I’ll clean it up.”

“That’s not---” sighing, dragging a hand down his face, Len paused. “That’s not what I’m concerned about, kid.”

“I’m sorry about the-the vase… I swear, I’ll---”

“Jim,” Len cut him off, “what exactly do you think is going to happen, here?”

Jim shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as a desperate attempt at nonchalance. “I’m going to clean up this glass, and then I’m going to get my stuff, and I’ll---”

“Get your stuff?”

“Well, yeah,” Jim replied, sounding for all the world like this was the only logical response to their situation.

“Jim…” Len sighed. This entire situation was out of his depth. “Just… take a seat, so I can clean up your feet, ok?”

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to---”

“Jim, please.”

Len could see Jim struggle with the decision. No doubt he was still running on the adrenaline from the incident, past instinct clashing with present circumstances leaving him off kilter and thoroughly embarrassed. To his credit, he took a hesitant step forward, pausing with a grimace as the pain in his feet finally registered. His hands flailed out as he fought for balance, shifting his weight to try to alleviate the sting.

“I gotcha, kid,” Len said, taking his hand and firmly grasping his elbow to help support him and guide him to the couch. Jim’s flinch was small, but noticeable; Len’s stomach churned.

He got Jim seated on the cushions, and quickly retrieved his med kit before taking a seat himself, gently maneuvering his friend’s bloody feet into his lap. Blood on his jeans was of no concern to him; he’d certainly dealt with far worse. There were tiny shards of glass embedded in the skin, but thankfully not too deep. He quickly pulled on gloves before grabbing a pair of sterile tweezers to remove the glass.

Experience had taught him to always give Jim explanations of what he was doing before he did it, medically, so he said softly, “I’m going to take the glass out and clean up your feet, ok, kid?”

Jim nodded, his defensiveness giving way to despondency and shame as he let Len work.

 _Well_ , Len thought, _now or never_.

He kept Jim in his peripheral vision, but avoided looking directly at him, hoping to alleviate some of Jim’s discomfort.

“I got a few things to say, kid, and I want you to hear me, ok?”

Jim looked up for a moment, opening his mouth to respond before closing it audibly and nodding reluctantly. Len kept his focus on his task.

“I know,” Len said, removing a shard of glass and placing it on the end table where the vase had sat, “that what happened here… you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.” Another shard. “And that’s ok, but I want you to understand something, alright?”

Here he paused and looked at Jim, ducking his head as he tried to make eye contact. “Jim, look at me.” Jim did. “I want you to know that I would _never_ hurt Joanna. Not ever.”

“I know, Bones,” Jim said, exasperation leaking into his tone as he sought an escape from the conversation.

 _Sorry, kid, not so fast_.

“And I would never hurt you, either, kid.”

Now _that_ got Jim’s attention. His head shot up, confusion ill disguised behind the trademark Jim Kirk front he was desperately trying to reconstruct to save face.

Jim tried to lighten the tone of the conversation with a joke, smirking and murmuring, “I don’t think you could take me if you tried, Bones.”

“I think you and I _both_ know that, kid… but I think maybe you forgot for a minute there.”

He resumed removing the remaining glass, the dull clatter of the shards hitting the end table piercing the silence of the room.

“The thing is, kid,” _Pluck. Clatter._ “I know you didn’t have it easy growing up.” _Pluck. Clatter._ “And I know that growing up like that, it changes you. Gives you a unique set of instincts you wish you’d never learned.” _Pluck. Clatter._ “It makes sense that some things will set you on edge, or remind you of things…” _Pluck. Clatter._ “But in this house,” he met Jim’s eye again, “there is nothing you could do that will change anything.”

“But I---”

“Nope. Nothin’. Not a damn thing. I don’t care if you _did_ break the vase, or if you broke every vase in the house, or hell, accidentally burned the kitchen down. That’s just what happened, Jim: an _accident_. And if it _hadn’t_ been an accident, Jo maybe would have spent some time in her room to cool off, but I would never raise a hand to her.”

“... I know,” Jim said, quietly. “I just…”

“And I would never turn my back on you.”

Jim still looked skeptical, and if that didn’t just break Len’s heart.

“That being said,” he continued, grabbing some sterilizing astringent and wetting some gauze, gently cleaning the cuts, “thank you for protecting Jo.”

Jim scoffed disgustedly. “Nothin’ to protect her from. I’m an idiot.”

“You reacted based on experience. Like I said, I think maybe just for a second there you forgot, and you went with your gut. And it means more to me than I can say that your instinct is to protect my baby girl.”

Cuts clean, he fished the dermal regenerator out of his med kit. “I hope I can return the favor, kid.”

“No, Bones, it’s no big deal, I just--”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

“Well,” Jim said, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck nervously. “I mean… you invited me into your home, you’re letting me stay here--”

“That ain’t nothin’ kid. That’s just what you do for family.”

He patted Jim’s leg twice, signalling he could place his feet on the floor, and Jim did.

As he put the dermal regen unit away, he saw Jim in his periphery. The kid was gaping at him like a fish out of water, stunned and confused and still more than a little embarrassed... but then he smiled. And in that moment Len decided, Jim’s discomfort be damned, they could both use a hug.

With a gruff, “C’mere, kid,” he looped an arm around Jim’s neck, and pulled him into his side, rubbing his arm a few times for good measure. With a snort of laughter, Jim returned the hug, patting Len on the back.

“Now,” Len said as they broke apart, “what say we get miss Joanna down here, clean up this mess and start dinner? I’m starving.”

With a smile that was just a tad too tight, something Len attributed to lingering awkwardness at having to face his mama and Jo again, Jim nodded.

“JoJo!” Len called up the stairs. “Bring your Uncle Jim a broom and let’s clean up this glass, ok, squirt? Make sure you put on some shoes first!”

The responding, “Ok, daddy!” was immediate.

Len turned back to Jim, saying, “You too. Shoes, now.”

Jim went to retrieve his shoes, smirking as he parroted, “Uncle Jim?”

“Like I said, kid: family.”

The responding smile was blinding. Jim returned to the mess, carefully picking up larger shards of glass with his hands as Joanna’s footsteps came tromping down the stairs followed by Eleanor’s softer footfalls.

With a wink, Jim accepted the broom from Joanna, and smiling wide enough to show off the gaps in her teeth, Joanna held the dustpan steady.

Len watched the two of them, his own smile wide.

“Leonard Horatio McCoy, _what_ are these bloody pieces of glass doing on my table?!”

In unison, Jim and Len responded with a sheepish, “Sorry, ma’am”.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] You're One of Us (You're Here to Stay)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124317) by [stuckwithyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckwithyou/pseuds/stuckwithyou)




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